Voracity
by KrysSaiyan
Summary: A fateful encounter with Starscream makes Optimus question his ability to lead the Autobots, and the sanctity of the Matrix. Starscream finds himself pulled to Optimus and unable to break away from a new addiction.  Dubcon warning
1. Desecrate You

In the past, Optimus thought that opening his chest plating would be extremely difficult for him, no matter who he was with. Simply put, Optimus was a private mech, and respected those he was close to far too much for… something like that. But that didn't stop him from fantasizing, sometimes. Nothing ever came of it, but they were harmless daydreams that flitted through his processor from time to time.

The last place he had ever imagined he'd find his chest armor splitting at the seams and coming apart in was a Decepticon brig, under the "loving" ministrations of a cruel seeker, who was being especially cruel in his kindness. Every mocking stroke was as good as a slap in the face, and so it surprised Optimus when he felt his chest opening; so much so that he jerked his gaze downward even as Starscream did, nearly banging their heads together at such a close distance.

It was a distance that would prove fatal for even the powerful seeker, for it wasn't _Optimus_ who had parted his chest plating from the inside.

The matrix shone gleaming around his spark, tucked in front of it like a shield as it bared itself to Starscream. Optimus knew this because he could see it reflected off both the seeker's canopy glass and his astonished optics. Before either had time to act, the matrix grabbed its Prime's spark- sudden and surprising enough to force a startled shout from Optimus where torture had not- and pushed it forward, manipulated it. Optimus lay frozen, terrified despite the waves of reassuring warmth that spread through him as the matrix pushed his spark, sending tendrils of its energy licking against the seeker's canopy beseechingly. He could do little but clench his fists in horror at the sudden feral, hungry grin that spread across Starscream's face, the mocking smirk that followed as the seeker parted his own chestplates, from inward out until the glass split along a seam lengthwise and folded neatly away.

It was a trap.

Quicker than either could follow, the matrix gently pushed the Prime's spark back once more, and _lashed out_ at the seeker's now-exposed spark, pressed up against it as he was. It latched on with an almost violent ferocity, and with a startled and panicky shriek, Starscream collapsed, limbs twitching, over the prone and restrained form of the Autobot leader. Optimus was afraid for a moment, thinking that the matrix had somehow been _tainted_, changed, that it was _killing_ Starscream in the most frightful way possible.

Starscream's shaky moan and slowly pawing hands put that fear to rest. The flier was still alive, and making sounds that mortified Optimus at such a close distance. He could just barely feel what the matrix was doing, connected as they were, and from what he could tell the matrix was practically _suckling_ on Starscream's spark. There was no other term for it besides the human one, and oddly enough _that_ disturbed Optimus more than the entire situation.

Staring at the Decepticon second-in-command's twitching wings in his line of vision, Optimus wished he _could _feel nothing. This was, frankly, disturbing.

Finished (with a satisfied feeling that left Optimus recoiling), the matrix released the poor seeker with an audible electric _pop!_ – and then courteously closed the Prime's chest plates again, leaving Optimus with a passed out, exhausted, overheated Decepticon recovering on top of him.

There were some days he hated being Prime.


	2. Broke Apart My Insides

"Again."

Optimus sighed, doing his best not to look at the seeker. Starscream gave him little choice, having roused and now pushing himself into the Prime's field of vision. Bound to the table as he was, he had little choice but to look at the seeker. "Pardon?" he murmured. Having Starscream perched on his chest was… uncomfortable.

"Do that again," Starscream demanded, looking irritated (as always) at Optimus' lack of understanding. "I need to… _study_ the phenomenon."

"Slag off," Optimus snapped. Normally a cool, controlled mech, recent events had unsettled him. He was understandably quite protective of the matrix, and by proxy, of his spark.

"Afraid not, Prime," Starscream cooed mockingly. At least _that_ was familiar.

In one smooth, graceful move, Starscream dismounted his captive and walked across the room to gather tools. At least, it sounded like it. Optimus didn't bother lifting his head to look.

"You see," Starscream continued while he did his mysterious preparations. "That's a _very_ interesting response. And if your reaction was anything to go by, you weren't expecting it."

Optimus refrained from commenting about Starscream's "reaction".

"Therefore, I suspect that the Matrix acted on its own. Am I wrong?"

He said nothing. Starscream didn't seem to care.

"It would be beneficial for me if I studied it, to prevent such a thing from happening when _I_ am leader, don't you think?"

It took a moment for Optimus to realize that Starscream didn't mean just "leader of the Decepticons". He meant to take the Matrix. The very thought, not a little disturbing, was equally laughable. He couldn't help but chuckle. A mistake.

Starscream instantly stilled, and the click-tap sound of Starscream's thrusters against the floor made Optimus tense, all mirth drained instantly from the situation. It was completely gone by the time Starscream leaned over him, blocking the overhead lighting like an eclipse.

"Is something funny, Prime?"

Optimus took a moment to answer… carefully, but with no less pride than he had displayed during the entirety of his capture. "What makes you think you can take the Matrix? That it will even accept you?" Starscream smiled.

"It seems to like me well enough already," he answered smoothly. Optimus shook his head.

"That proved nothing." What it _had_ been, Optimus didn't know, and didn't care to know. "Unless you aspire to be a leader who can't rise up off his knees."

Optimus was struck across the face for it. His vision flashed static briefly, and when it cleared, it was to Starscream's irate face, red optics narrowed dangerously. The concentrated glow cast the rest of his face in a malevolent crimson. Appropriate, Optimus thought.

"I deserved that," he muttered, wishing his limbs were free if only to rub at the sore side of his face. Starscream packed quite the punch.

The jet didn't respond for a long moment, letting the situation sink in for Prime. When he finally spoke, it was slow and calculated… nearly reluctant.

"You're stronger than I thought, Prime," Starscream said – his voice something approaching _quiet_, for once. There was another long pause in which neither of them spoke, until Starscream leaned down to put his face next to the Autobot leader's helm.

"Maybe as strong as Megatron," he whispered. "You'd have to be, to hold your ground against him for so long."

"Trying to get into my chest again Starscream?" This intimate attention still made him uncomfortable… as it was probably meant to. Starscream chuckled, the sound so close to his head that Optimus could literally feel it on his plating.

"If I was?"

"The Matrix won't accept you."

"Now when did I say I wanted in your chest _just_ for the Matrix…?"

Alarms rescued Optimus far before his Autobots did. At the first siren, Starscream ripped himself away and aimed his null rays at the only door to the room – only to be knocked out cold from behind as Mirage reappeared.

During the debriefing that came afterward, Mirage reported that Optimus Prime and Starscream had been talking too low for him to hear, and there was no mention of the seeker having gotten into Prime's chest, nor the Matrix's strange reaction. Optimus was relieved enough to not even question the validity of the report. If Mirage had seen more than he admitted to, Prime was grateful to him for the omission.

They found windshield wipers that had been torn out at the roots lying outside the Ark the next morning. Optimus took them from Huffer with a quiet thanks, his newly installed wipers aching slightly with the memory.

He knew with certainty that it had been Starscream that left them there in the desert, even without seeing that there were no tracks around them when they were found – an aerial drop. He knew it, in his spark.

The Matrix stirred, voices of old Primes mixing together in a hushed murmur as Optimus put the torn-off wipers in his quarters instead of handing them over to Ratchet for disposal.


	3. Closer To God

"Funny how we keep meeting like this."

"I'm not laughing," Optimus growled, his gun leveled at the lithe seeker blocking his only exit out of the narrow crack in the Oregon desert floor formed into a canyon. He could hear the Autobots clamoring over his communication lines – Prowl, as always, keeping close track of him and only calling off a retreat on his Prime's insistence that he could take care of this himself – and far away, above the lip of the canyon, Megatron's furious roar proclaiming him a coward. Starscream only smirked more insufferably.

"There's no need for that," Starscream pointed out, gesturing – carefully – to the weapon held in Optimus's hand. "I'm not going to fight with you, Prime." He advanced, step by careful step, until he was directly in front of the barrel of the gun, his hands held out in a supposed treaty and a friendly, mocking smile on his face. Optimus wouldn't fire unless Starscream attacked outright… and Starscream knew this.

As the seeker moved, awkwardly graceful on the rocks that crunched underneath his thrusters and so very out of his element, Optimus couldn't help but feel a strange sense of unease crawling up his spark. There was something wrong with Starscream's expression and his supposed motives… a sneak attack was predictable, and Optimus tensed for it, sensors opening further and spreading the available range outward to try and catch it before it was sprung.

"You seem to be at my mercy again," Starscream purred – and it was only his wariness that kept Optimus from laughing at the juxtaposition of the seeker saying _that_ while standing with his cockpit practically brushing the barrel of Prime's gun. "Care to negotiate?"

"I'm not interested in any deal you could offer," Optimus answered tersely. He was about to tell the seeker to fly off and let both of them get back to the battle raging above their heads, but the flicker of emotion across Starscream's face made him stall. It was… _hungry_, and desperate. Optimus was suddenly more uneasy than before.

"Oh, I think you will be," Starscream promised. "I'm asking for so little, after all. Only for you to open up for me. It won't even hurt, I promise."

The offer was so… wrong, and out of character for Starscream, it took Optimus a few moments to answer. "_No_," he said emphatically, voice tinged with shock. "What are you up to? I'm sure Megatron-"

"_Megatron can go frag himself!_" Starscream hissed, red optics flaring bright in fury. But just as quickly, he switched off again, watching Optimus with that same thinly-veiled hunger. "This is between just us. It's scientific curiousity."

"You're lying."

"Now, you don't _know_ that…" Starscream trailed off with a sharp look at the sky, and Optimus followed his gaze, anticipating someone intruding on their solitude from above; one of Starscream's trine, coming to retrieve him.

That lapse of attention was all Starscream needed to reach out, lightning-fast, and brush blue fingertips against the glass of Optimus Prime's windshield, rattling against the grill as he let his hand fall and withdraw. It all happened in an instant, which was all it took for chaos to break out.

Optimus fired, and Starscream screeched as part of his shoulder vent was taken off, reeling back. At the same time, Optimus felt the Matrix surge in his chest, and the cool desert air as his plating opened up. He gave an involuntary cry and dropped his gun, using both hands to try and force the metal sheets back together.

Why was it doing this? And why with _Starscream_, of all mechs? Optimus stumbled backwards – and in his shock and haste, tripped on the jutting rocks that dotted the canyon floor. Starscream, despite the pain, did not miss his opportunity.

The seeker pounced, and there was a brief struggle even as Starscream's canopy split and retracted, the layers of circuitry and metal peeling back and sliding away from his spark. Optimus was stronger physically than the seeker, and millennia of skirmishes and grappling with Megatron had given him all the experience he needed in hand-to-hand combat to throw Starscream off… but if nothing else, Starscream was _faster_ than him.

An instant was all it took for Starscream to get close enough to the Matrix's greedy, pulling grasp, and then it was too late to do anything to stop it. With the same static-screech as before, Starscream went limp on top of Optimus as the Matrix moved around the seeker's spark. Optimus shook, with fear, with anger, with frustration; he offlined his optics, determined to not witness this debasement. His own spark was trapped (_protected_) behind the Matrix, and it was only when he wasn't _seeing_ the act that he could feel it instead.

There was a pull on his spark – faint, but present nonetheless. Optimus shuddered, even as Starscream was moaning distantly and raking his fingers through the dirt on either side of the Autobot leader. Slag Starscream, he thought. His priorities lay with the Matrix. Was something… _wrong_ with it?

It was a thought bordering on sacrilegious. Optimus went ahead and probed at the Matrix anyway.

By necessity, Optimus was familiar with communicating with the Matrix. The circumstances under which he had been brought online as Optimus _Prime_ necessitated that he become a leader quickly, and that was nigh impossible without tapping into the Matrix's wealth of knowledge. The stored personalities and memories of all past Primes. Not all of it comforting, nor pretty, but _useful_, yes.

Unfortunately, the nature of the Matrix was never fully understood. Perhaps at one point it had been, but it was not something Optimus had access to. It was either a piece of sophisticated hardware, nothing more mystical than an external harddrive carrying the data of dead mechs; or it was an ancient and holy relic, a pathway into the Well of All Sparks, and thus a pathway to Primus Himself. Before the war, it had been a topic of some controversy, but Optimus never bothered to form an opinion on it, either as a dock worker or as Prime. He had been too preoccupied to question its origins and purpose, kept busy with hard labor and fighting a war, respectively.

He had, however, determined one thing about its nature: in order to communicate with it to any degree, he needed to speak in vague thoughts and emotions, pushed through his very essence, his spark. Simply thinking something did nothing to open the Matrix to him – he had to learn to speak through his spark at it to uncover anything of use. Once he learned that, it deigned to show him memories and give him what information it could.

It was this skill that Optimus used as Starscream was writhing on top of him, the seeker's cooling system buzzing. It was the decision to _use_ this skill that doomed Optimus.

The instant he probed questioningly at the Matrix, it sucked him in. His spark stayed firmly behind the device, but his consciousness was instantly and irreversibly shattered by processor-rattling _pleasure_. The Matrix knew he was there, and _Starscream_ knew he was there, and he could hazily feel them both – Starscream in much the same state as Optimus, delirious and confused and in a state of absolute bliss, but with a satisfaction and glee that Optimus didn't share; and the Matrix, a faintly throbbing, massive presence between them, radiating its own overwhelming satisfaction, desire, and reassurance.

Optimus felt dizzy, as if on the edge of a precipice with his balance disabled and struggling to not fall. He was still so confused… Why? All he wanted to know was _why_…

He felt a kind of… opening, like the clouds of Earth parting for a shaft of sunlight to spear through, and in that brief glimpse, a bright paradox of _empty light_… and a sensation not unlike the one he used to get when his shift at the docks was over and he would trudge, tired and aching, into the archive halls that felt infinitely more like home than the crowded worker housing district. It was pulling him in, beckoning with cool relief… Distantly, he heard a strained and crackling voice scream "_P-Priiiime!_" and trail off into static…

Abruptly, he was thrown back into a white haze of pleasure, deaf and blind in it. A long, aching while after that, he became aware of the sound of static, and alerts backlogged in his processor. The roar of jets was what startled him into alertness.

The static was in fact the hissing of dual cooling systems, and the alerts started filing away. Overheating warnings, damage reports (Starscream's hands had somehow gripped his shoulders hard enough to damage the joints) and numerous, _numerous_ pings from the Autobot officers. The Decepticons were retreating.

Starscream was slumped on top of him still, offline and insensible to the universe.


	4. No Soul To Sell

When Starscream finally roused himself, Optimus made certain it was within a secure containment cell deep in the belly of the _Ark_, away from curious optics. No doubt, the rest of the Autobots were wondering what happened here anyway, but it was not so unusual for their Prime to ferret away prisoners for a little while. What happened, they did not know, but they trusted their Prime completely, and so it was the one place left to Optimus Prime that felt secure enough for his questions.

Once those red optics flickered back online with a groan and a quiet, satisfied whine that left Prime's engine feeling colder than ever, the Matrix-bearer stepped forward. Starscream was left unbound, standing, and there was nothing keeping the seeker from attacking him, but Optimus felt no fear. Nothing could compare to the chilling doubt that permeated his processors now.

"What have you done to the Matrix?" he demanded. Starscream finished booting up with a confused look that swiftly transformed to a smirk.

"Oh? You don't know?"

"Don't play games with me, Starscream. I'm not in the mood."

"Oh, my," Starscream simpered, looking away coyly. "I'd better be forthright then, hadn't I?"

Optimus growled and stepped forward menacingly, but Starscream did not seem intimidated. Only interested. "What are you planning to do to me then, Optimus Prime?" the seeker asked, optics dimmed to half-power. "Another interrogation? What do you hope to gain from it? The same thing I do, I hope."

"I want to know what you've done," Optimus interrupted, "to the Matrix."

"You should know, you're the one with it strapped on your spark." Starscream seemed almost bored. It irritated Optimus further.

"You know what I mean!"

"Do I?"

"It's never done this!" Optimus hissed, fists clenching. He would regret this loss of cool, calm control later… but not now. "Not while I've possessed it, nor any of the other Primes, has it behaved the way it does when our chests meet! So _what have you done_?"

Starscream seemed pleased by the information, though he kept his gaze averted, staring at some point past the electrified bars of his prison with a vague smile. "I haven't done a thing. Perhaps it just likes me. And who would blame it?"

"But _why_?" Optimus asked, his tone a tinge desperate. "You must have done something. Why you? Why else would it…" He didn't finish, unable to say aloud his fears and make them more real. Why else would it use his spark as bait for Starscream, why else would it _latch onto_ the Decepticon's spark and pull energy from it endlessly? "… What does it do to you?"

"I would think that would be obvious," Starscream sniffed.

"Starscream!"

"Oh, very well." The seeker pouted, and finally turned to look Optimus in the face, his expression indifferent and bored. This was apparently not turning out the way he wanted it to. "That old relic embedded in your circuitry is drawing energy from my spark in some kind of parody of a one-way spark-merge until the pull becomes too much for my spark to comfortably handle and it gives one last pulse of energy. Oh, and I overload."

Optimus grimaced behind his mask. "I could have guessed the last part myself. The question is, why?"

Starscream shrugged. "I don't really care."

"How can you not? I thought you used to be a scientist."

"Is that old rust-bucket still spreading rumors?" Starscream asked with a sudden, mocking grin. "Skyfire _wanted_ me to be, anyone could've seen that. Thought I had potential. Well, of course I did! But wanting answers, being curious and _stunningly_ intelligent, doesn't make one a scientist. And even if I was…" He shrugged smoothly. "Why should I care what the reason is behind every little thing? Thus far it's been quite beneficial for me. But if you like to imagine me as a scientist, I'm sure we can repeat our first little experiment…"

Starscream's lewd expression made Optimus turn his face away in clear disgust and rejection. Starscream only laughed.

"_I_ want to know," Optimus replied.

"Well that's _your_ problem then, isn't it?"

"It has to do with both of us!"

Starscream spread his hands and shook his head as if helpless to stop what had been started. What _he_ had started. "It involves you very little," the seeker explained. "Unless you've been slipping your spark in there, you sick glitch. Which I highly doubt you have."

Optimus chose to take that as a compliment to his morals and control rather than a jab at his performance capabilities. "The Matrix is _inside_ me," he argued.

"An unfortunate necessity," Starscream sighed. "But I, for one, am not complaining." Seeing Prime's startled look, the seeker scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself. You're nice enough to look at, for a filthy groundpounding Autobot, but I was referring to the apparent ease with which I can get into your chest, Optimus Prime."

"That plating did not open of my own volition!" Optimus snapped. "You weren't exactly slow to show your spark."

"I know what I want," Starscream explained – and made a deadly, small step towards Optimus. "And I'm not afraid to take it."

Optimus Prime held up an empty hand. Weapons had been removed before entering the cell. Starscream could potentially steal one of Prime's weapons - but in their absence, Optimus could easily defeat the jet in hand-to-hand combat. "Stop."

"You can't really make me, or you would have by now," Starscream purred, and took another step closer. Optimus circled as the seeker talked, wary, and Starscream returned the favor by stalking him. "But you _are_ afraid, aren't you Optimus Prime? Afraid of what this means. That's why you want to find out the reasons behind this."

It hit Optimus suddenly. So suddenly that he stopped the slow rotations they had been making in the cell, blue optics flickering with realization. "… You," he murmured. "You don't know why either. You have no idea at all."

"Oh, _very_ good," Starscream mocked, his own red optics brightening. "But I'm willing to bet that your fear has a basis. So what is it, Optimus Prime? Afraid your precious Autobots will find out? Afraid that you won't be able to help yourself? Or, perhaps… afraid that the Matrix has chosen someone else…"

Again with that theory! Optimus didn't know whether to be amused, annoyed, or shocked, so he settled for all three at once. In the ensuing struggle to sort out how his processers would handle that bit of data, he missed the crucial point at which Starscream moved. It seemed that the very next moment, his vision was filled with the seeker's mocking smirk.

"Why are you so resistant to this, Optimus Prime?" the seeker asked, and Optimus was startled to notice that Starscream's vocal pitch had lowered by quite a lot, quieted down to barely more than a whisper. "Does it not do the same for you as it does for me?" At Prime's lack of response, Starscream tutted and continued. "Poor thing. No wonder you're fighting so much to keep that chest closed off to me. Though, you know… it's not really yours to keep to yourself."

Before Optimus could speak up, Starscream continued, looking self-satisfied. "But I'll be gracious. It's only _fair_ after all…"

"Shut up."

The abruptness of the command was what made Starscream obey more than anything else, and he looked at Prime with polite curiosity. It took the Autobot commander a few moments to compose a plan of action, and a proper response. When he spoke, it sounded weary.

"I don't want anything except for you to shut up and leave me alone," he admitted finally. "I don't want your spark anywhere near mine… or any other part of you, for that matter. But… I have a bad feeling you'll continue to ambush me at every opportunity to fulfill whatever… sick needs you have."

Starscream's grin confirmed it.

"In that case," Optimus continued, "_I'll_ make a deal. If I… cooperate… you get what you need, nothing more, and then leave. You quit this harassment."

Starscream seemed to contemplate that offer, staring unwaveringly at Optimus Prime all the while. "I didn't expect you to negotiate…" the seeker finally admitted. "And while I find I rather like harassing you, I don't have the time to seduce you _every_ time…"

"Every time?" Optimus repeated incredulously. "No, you've misunderstood-"

"No, _you_ misunderstand," Starscream interrupted. "I am not satisfied for long, Prime! This will not be a one-time deal! Whether you agree or not, it won't change the outcome!" The seeker's face loomed close. "Either you submit _every_ time, or I'll _take_ what I want from you anyway."

"That's rape," Optimus pointed out. Starscream scowled.

"It _can_ be," the seeker countered, tone strangely careful. "But I'm giving you a choice."

Optimus thought it was strange that a negotiation that started with _his_ offer had now turned to Starscream's. "That's a false choice, and you know it, Starscream."

"But still a choice."

A choice between two evils. But hadn't Optimus made these kinds of choices before, throughout the course of the war? This was more personal, perhaps more disturbing than most, but… Experience told him that, one way or another, Starscream would find a way to him. He couldn't afford to spend his time dodging the seeker, not when there was a war to win, an army to lead. It was, as accused, a non-choice.

Starscream was more enthusiastic than before, a detail that disturbed Optimus more than ever. He would have the scratches explained away with a struggle, which was plausible enough, but the scratches left on his mask from Starscream's enthusiastic biting would be harder.

Perhaps the most unsettling part of the experience was when it was over, and the seeker was laying on top of him, exhausted once more. When Optimus experimentally moved to free himself, Starscream shifted with him, optics still offline, to press a kiss against his mask with a purr.

When it came time to release Starscream back to the Decepticons as part of their usual prisoner exchange, Optimus Prime relinquished him gladly. In the following days, however, he found himself unable to determine whether he was relieved or not. There was danger looming on the horizon, but Optimus felt deeply that it was not heralded with the sound of jet engines, but the gentle pulse of the Matrix against his spark.


	5. Tear Down My Reason

Each time, it became harder to play the martyr role he had assigned himself. For practicality's sake, and for secrecy's, there was an arranged schedule Starscream and Optimus Prime adhered to, for what Starscream called their _trysts_ and Optimus thought of as blackmail.

If he were honest with himself, Optimus would admit that it wasn't blackmail alone that kept him from breaking their "agreement". Few were likely to believe whatever Starscream said, and those that did were likely to place the blame squarely on Starscream's head, rather than Prime's. No, it wasn't the threat of having their rendezvous discovered that worried Optimus Prime.

Starscream managed to disengage before the Matrix could take its usual hold on him, pushing up with the help of Prime's shoulder under his hand until his spark was out of reach of the voracious artifact. He straddled the Autobot's prone frame and sighed. Optimus had long since let his gaze go unfocused, dimly noting the way condensation pearled on shivering wingtips as Starscream fought to lower his temperature once more.

Optimus felt the Matrix shift in his chest, reaching, and silently despaired.

"Don't look so morose," Starscream chided when he noticed. "You look like a corpse."

Optimus did not look at him. This was the seventh time. He could not still cling to his victimhood. Yet he tried one last time. "I feel like one."

For a few moments, Starscream said nothing. Optimus felt those piercing red optics observing him critically, and did not bother to return the favor. There was little point in it. "Are you finished?" he asked tiredly.

Starscream's reaching hand told him "no", and Optimus resigned himself to staring up at the night sky while Starscream and the increasingly foreign object in his chest coupled around him.

It therefore came as an abrupt and unpleasant shock when he felt his spark brushed against by questing digits that found their way around the reaching Matrix. Optimus gasped, only instinct preventing him from jolting and accidentally impaling himself on Starscream's hand. "_Stop_."

Perhaps even more shockingly, Starscream did. Now, with Prime's optics focused on him, Starscream kept his fingers still and did not try to go further. "Why?"

The Autobot leader stared up at the silhouetted seeker incredulously. He was asking why? "Don't pretend, Starscream. I don't want you touching me, and you know it."

Starscream's expression twisted into a frown. "I was only trying to help," he protested. Optimus shot him a hard glare.

"I don't need your pity, Decepticon."

It looked for a moment as if Starscream would hit him for that – but the moment passed, and Starscream's face was once again a strange, unreadable mixture of emotions. "You need many things, Autobot," he answered. "But pity isn't one of them. Frankly, I'd crush your spark myself if you ever sunk low enough for me to _pity_."

And, strangest of all, Optimus Prime felt a little comforted by the sentiment.

"Still," Starscream continued, "there's no reason to be so hasty to reject an offer. Unless there's something you're frightened of?"

"I'm not taking that bait."

"Pity." The seeker's free hand trailed lightly up and down the aerodynamic frame. Red optics dimmed. "I thought I made a rather attractive lure."

"Now you desire my interest?" Optimus asked, and was pleased to see Starscream falter.

"Don't assume things," Starscream warned, suddenly very serious. His grating voice rasped at such a low frequency. "You aren't fighting this, Optimus Prime. And, as inevitable as we both know my victory is… you are not well known for surrendering, even in the face of absolute defeat. I can only guess at what you want."

"You don't care what I want. Don't pretend otherwise."

Starscream shrugged. His fingers were growing restless again. "Still. I would guess that you want this, but cannot bear to admit to it enough to participate."

"I've already told you my feelings on the matter," Optimus reminded him. He was not at all surprised that Starscream's reply was dismissive.

"I don't believe you, Prime. But," he amended, and withdrew his hand from inside the Prime, "if you are so against accepting my generosity, I won't force it on you."

"A benevolent gesture," Optimus drawled, sarcasm thick and utterly useless against the Air Commander.

"Quite. Now then," Starscream purred, optics alight again with hunger, "I believe I had some other business to attend to while you're here…"

"Why?"

Starscream looked irritated again by this interruption. "That business was _not_ 'have a boring discussion with Optimus Prime', I'll have you know."

"I know," Optimus confirmed, and half sat up before Starscream's hand halted his progress. He lay back again. "But surely this must concern you too."

"I believe we've been over this. Multiple times, now." Starscream's tone was bored, and not a little impatient.

Optimus did not bother to appeal to Starscream's reason. "So it doesn't bother you, this hunger gnawing at your spark?" he prompted. To his relief, the seeker paused. Optimus used the opportunity to further his goals. "A hunger that was never there before? Your time would be better spent on other pursuits. When was your last attempt to overthrow Megatron?"

Starscream's optics narrowed again as he looked down at his captured foe. "I don't know, Prime," he murmured, deceptively soft as his hands repositioned to hold Optimus Prime down by his throat. "Do your Autobot _spies_ have nothing to tell you?"

No. Mirage's reports contained nothing too unusual. But gossip amongst the Autobots originating from Mirage told of peculiarities about Starscream that most Autobots wrote off as a glitched bot acting under whatever twisted normal parameters he had. They laughed it off when Mirage told them how Starscream stalked the ruined corridors of the Nemesis now, when he normally kept himself in his quarters, or in the sky, and that Thundercracker hid from him, and Skywarp was nowhere to be found…

In this case, gossip revealed more to Optimus than the official reports did.

"How long can this go on?" Optimus asked. He received increased pressure on his neck as repayment.

"As long as it needs to."

"Until you're satisfied?" Optimus confirmed, heedless of the pressure on his neck. "What if that's never?"

"_Shut up!_" Starscream lost his limited patience with a snarl, and released Prime's neck long enough to strike him across the face. "And what of _you_, Optimus Prime?" the jet snapped. "Laying there like a rusting corpse around your precious Matrix, resigned to it, as if you were not capable of anything else!" Starscream swatted him again for good measure, and Optimus turned his head away with a grunt.

"_Optimus Prime_," Starscream continued in a hiss, "Enemy of all who call themselves Decepticon, and personal foe of Megatron himself. None equal. Powerful enough to make life _difficult_ for the Decepticons… even for I, Starscream." That particular thought seemed to subdue the seeker's earlier violence, and he paused as he stared down at Optimus as if seeing him for the first time.

The next instant, his sneer returned. "And yet here you are, playing the victim. As if we _both_ don't know how easy it would be for you to escape, and how much weight your word holds against mine, in the end. Don't think me a _fool_, Optimus Prime! If you truly wished it, you would end this, and happily leave me… wanting. But you don't. And you have the audacity to ask _me_ 'why'?"

Optimus had no response to that, struck dumb by Starscream's uncharacteristic speech. The seeker, for his part, merely snorted after a moment, satisfied that he would not be argued with again for the night, and descended onto the ever-hungry Matrix once more.


	6. Help Me

_Despite whatever the Prime thought, all was not well for Starscream aboard the Nemesis. As a base of operations it was subpar, and as a place to return to after battle… it was not Cybertron. More than its inadequacy, it was somewhere loathsome for Starscream, made doubly so now by the pressure of water making the hull whine and creak plaintively at all times. Starscream, more than any other Decepticon, hated returning to the ship. Every single time, he had to buckle down on the urge to simply refuse, fighting the hardwired programming that told him to find elsewhere to roost, somewhere safer, more secure, more secluded._

_ The Nemesis was Megatron's domain; not Starscream's._

_ Starscream knew this down to his struts, but it still came as a surprise when his Lord was waiting for him as he stepped out of the airlock, still dripping with saltwater. _

_ "Lord Megatron," he murmured in uncertain greeting._

_ "Spare me," Megatron said – and Starscream's spark flickered with fear as Laserbeak swooped in to land on Megatron's outstretched arm. "You've been… distracted lately, Starscream."_

_ Starscream shifted, glanced around. Soundwave was standing in position just behind and to the side of Megatron – there was no one else. "I've been busy. Surely you won't complain about _that_ as well, my Lord?"_

_ "Oh, no," Megatron confirmed – and Starscream hated the way he purred it – "After your frankly abysmal performances lately, seeing you so animated has been quite a pleasure. But," he paused to sigh in a regretful tone, "not as much of a pleasure as it has been for Optimus Prime, I suspect."_

_ Starscream's attack was quickly thwarted, though not before he had shattered Soundwave's delicate visor. The communications officer had to resort to a close-range subsonic paralysis… and even that had to be backed up by Megatron's solid grip, pinning the seeker to the floor to fully subdue him._

_ "Stop that infernal noise," Megatron scolded the seeker, but it did no good. Starscream continued his snarling, screaming, and begging all the way down into the depths of the Nemesis, past subordinates who watched, most of whom laughed and followed along, eager to see more. Starscream was dismayed to find that Megatron not only allowed this, but actively encouraged it. The warlord usually kept his prey to himself. The realization of what was coming only made Starscream struggle harder, and they had to pause more than once to reposition and subdue him again. His thruster-fire left scorches along the walls and floor._

_ Despite his best efforts, Starscream was trapped. As Megatron threw him down onto the hanger bay floor, circled by other Decepticons, Starscream knew it. As they cheered, as loud as any privileged Autobot spectators in the gladiator pit stadiums, Starscream felt it press in on his spark. His fuel was low, from his struggles, the flight… his meeting with Optimus Prime. His only recourse was pleading for forgiveness – Megatron stomped down onto a wing and silenced him. The Decepticon sigil smeared under his foot. _

_The spectators quieted abruptly._

_Megatron did not have to say anything. No accusations were thrown out to explain this punishment to those watching – no warnings to not do as Starscream had done. Megatron was silent. Starscream could not be._

_ It didn't take long for Starscream to cycle through his list of excuses and finally hit on the truth inbetween the intermittent shrieks as Megatron stomped on his wings._

_ "I can't help it!" he cried after the plating cracked, the sigil on one wing an unrecognizable smear of purple. Megatron paused, foot still upraised, and gave him a skeptical look. In desperation, Starscream continued babbling out the truth; It was Prime's fault, the Matrix was corrupted, it had woken a hunger in his spark that knew no satisfaction elsewhere no matter how much he tried (someone started laughing and trailed off as no one else joined in), he was being _pulled_ into it, he didn't _want_ it, he couldn't _help_ but want it so bad…_

_ Megatron stomped on his good wing five times with the unhurried rhythm of a war cannon. When he finished, he loomed over the exhausted seeker and waited for Starscream to come back to himself._

_ "The Matrix," he growled. Starscream trembled. He knew he had made his last, fatal mistake. Megatron grinned tightly, a grimace of aggression and pain. "Are you an Autobot now, Starscream, to worship that thing?"_

_ "I don't, I don't, I hate it-"_

_ "You hate it so much you've let it touch your spark?" Megatron finished for him. "So much, that you cannot help yourself, but crawl towards Prime like the lowest scum of simpering Autobot?"_

_ "No, noooo…"_

_ Megatron knelt by Starscream's frame, touched his face gently, leaned in close to talk only to him. "You know why I do this, Starscream. You would do the same. You have not forgotten our pact, have you?"_

_ Starscream shook his head and moaned. "Nooo…"_

_ "I thought not." _

_ Megatron straightened, but remained kneeling where he was. "Comrades," he addressed the silent crowd. "Our Air Commander Has Fallen."_

_ Starscream made no more sound._

* * *

><p>"Prime, Decepticon activity reported." Prowl reported succinctly from his post at Teletraan-1's console. The Prime, standing at his side, looked at the flashing Decepticon signal on Teletraan's screen.<p>

"Where?"

"Not far…" Prowl answered, pulling the data from satellite relays via the powerful computer. "… Not far at all, in fact," he continued, frowning. "Only 2.7 miles southwest of the _Ark_, Prime. They've never ventured this close for anything but subterfuge before…" There was a pause, and then – "It's Megatron."

As if cued, Megatron's glyph appeared on the communications display. Neither Prowl, nor any of the other officers who had gathered during the ensuing scramble alarm, motioned to intercept it.

Only Optimus Prime communicated with Megatron.

With a feeling of dread, Optimus activated the communications line. The audio crackled to life – but visual connections were blocked.

"Megatron," Optimus rumbled.

"_Prime!_" Megatron greeted, all false enthusiasm. "I'm certain that, at this very moment, you are sending out your little spies to see what I'm up to out here, so close to your filthy den. So I'll save us both the time and tell you."

Optimus made a hand gesture – Jazz, Ironhide, go. They nodded and mutely left. "That's rather charitable of you, Megatron."

"Oh, Prime," Megatron purred, and something clenched at Optimus Prime's spark. "If only you knew how charitable I was. But now is not the time for ideological clashes. I've come to inform you that I've… discovered… one of your followers. I thought you may want him returned to you."

Optimus glanced at Prowl, who shook his head. There were no reports of missing or AWOL Autobots, and Megatron's choice of words were not putting Prime's spark at ease.

"What game are you playing at, Megatron?"

"I do not play _games_, Prime. Come pick up your errant serf."

The communications cut off abruptly, and it was no surprise when Prowl reported "Megatron's signal is leaving the area, Prime. Returning in the direction of the _Nemesis_ crash site."

At the same time, Jazz opened a direct line to Optimus Prime's comm system. _"You're gonna wanna take a look at this, boss."_

_"What's the situation Jazz?"_

_"It's… difficult to explain, sir. And not something for comm lines."_

_"Understood. ETA 2 minutes."_

As Optimus turned to leave the bridge, Prowl swiveled in his chair. "Prime," he cautioned, "We don't know what Megatron really left behind out there. Let one of the others-"

"I'll be back soon, Prowl."

The Chief Tactician watched as his commander left, unable to stop the disaster he could feel looming on the horizon.

* * *

><p>It was, as Jazz had forewarned, not a matter to be discussed over comm lines. When Optimus rolled up and transformed, the first thing he noticed was Jazz and Ironhide standing over a wreck. This did not surprise Optimus – he had suspected that some poor Cybertronian had suffered under Megatron's hands – but what did surprise him was the fact that, instead of standing guard over the body, his two best lieutenants were gaping at it. He shouldered his way through.<p>

"What's going on here?" he commanded, searching the mangled frame for a distinguishing feature. The metal was dead-grey and mutilated. But this was nothing new or shocking since the war had tumbled into such acts of horror long ago. Why were his two top officers gawping at it?

Neither responded, and any rebukes died in the Prime's pre-vocal processor as he surveyed the corpse for identifiable marks.

There were two triangular planes, bent and twisted, but whole. Wings.

Prime's spark stopped spinning. The Matrix pulsed, slowly.

"You seein' what I'm seein', Boss?" Jazz murmured gravely. Optimus did not respond. Ironhide barked out a hasty laugh.

"About time Megatron did something right!" Ironhide said.

"Be quiet," Optimus ordered. He ignored the incredulous looks he received for it. Normally, he would be joking along with them. Even in the face of such brutality, as long as it was happening to a _Decepticon_, it was fine. This was a war. If they couldn't raise morale by making light of the things their enemy did to each other, then what could they do? Sympathy for the enemy was the first step to hesitation, and that was something none of them could afford.

But Optimus hesitated.

Jazz was the first to catch on. "Sorry boss," he said as he stepped between Optimus and Starscream's ruined corpse. "We'll get the area secure and have Hoist salvage-"

Optimus turned around to face the desert surrounding them. He couldn't look at the bent and buckled plating without thinking of that cutting smirk and the ghost-like feel of lips pressed against his face shield, the heat that would radiate off those wings and that spark, extinguished now.

"No," he said. "Take everything back to the Ark. Take it to Ratchet and have him hold it. This… wouldn't be the first time the Decepticons have tried to trick us, and I don't believe Megatron would kill Starscream so arbitrarily after all this time."

Ironhide's skepticism was obvious, but his loyalty was steadfast. "Yes sir!" Optimus nodded shortly and, never looking back, headed back toward the Ark, trying to ignore the feeling of Jazz's optics following him.

Optimus Prime did not doubt that the mangled mech back there was – had been – Starscream. Megatron's communiqué had been too suspicious, too _eloquent_, which from long experience Optimus knew only happened when the warlord was being serious.

Instead of driving, Optimus took the slow route back to base and chose to walk. He felt an ominous shudder in his frame as Jazz and Ironhide drove past him, carrying the wreck between them. Looking at what remained of his "problem", Optimus realized what Megatron's cryptic talk of finding one of Prime's "followers" meant. The only thing it _could_ mean.

Optimus had been worried about the Autobots finding out about the illicit deal he had with Starscream. He hadn't considered what might happen if the Decepticons found out.

Apparently, Starscream hadn't considered it either. (Or had he, and continued anyway? Optimus shook his head; it was no good considering these things now.)

Megatron knew that Starscream and Optimus Prime were meeting. Any details, if indeed there were any that Megatron knew of, were irrelevant to the outcome. Megatron, Optimus knew, would tolerate much in the way of treason, but a possible collaboration with his most hated enemy? A possible defection of his Air Commander to the Autobots, and not only the Autobots, but Optimus Prime _personally_? Unacceptable. Now that he knew, Optimus Prime wasn't surprised at the level of brutality evidenced on Starscream's frame. Not just a traitor's death, but a personal slight against Megatron himself, being repaid.

But what made Optimus Prime's spark try to twist out of its casing in horror and shame was the knowledge that Starscream had died, not because he had tried to take Megatron's position or the myriad other things that Starscream might have done – there was nothing that Starscream himself had done to warrant his death.

Resting firmly on Optimus Prime's shoulders was the knowledge that Starscream's death was not the result of infighting or a result of the war, but was because of who Starscream had chosen to lay with.

Starscream's death was his fault.

* * *

><p>The Vault was the colloquial term used by the Autobot crew for the antechamber attached to the repair bay. In such cramped quarters, it was used for many purposes, most of all storage of spare parts and extra tools. As of late, at least, that's all it had been used for because luckily there hadn't been any dead shells to break down and re-use during the war. No casualties meant no reasons to avoid the Vault when Ratchet told you to go fetch something for him.<p>

The Vault was lined with bolted cabinets and storage cubes stacked on top of each other lining all the walls. The light, when it was on, was bright enough, but it was off and thus pitch-black when a weak flicker of light refracted off the smooth metal surfaces of the supply cabinets.

On a gurney shoved to the side, the shell of Starscream remained still, inert, and gray, ready for processing. Ratchet had been careful with the placement, leaving all of the limbs tucked neatly on the gurney's surface, laying on its back even though the bent wings made the whole frame arch up into the air gruesomely, as if frozen in a moment of pain or ecstasy.

Amongst the shards of glass buried deep into the chest cavity, a light flickered again. The brief, electric white-blue light of a spark illuminated gray armor plating that flushed with colors – then faded again. This happened over and over again in a mimicry of a sparkpulse, infinitely slow.

A shattered vocalizer clicked on, clicked off, and repeated. The damage did not permit screaming.


	7. Away From Myself

It was of concern to nearly every Autobot when their leader began pacing the halls restlessly at every hour. It had started the day they brought Starscream's corpse into the Ark, and the coincidence was not lost on anyone. The Vault was put into quarantine, Jazz and Ironhide submitted to a thorough systems scan - nothing turned up.

Whatever Starscream had been carrying, it affected Optimus Prime only, and no matter what kind of rank Ratchet tried to pull, he would not submit to an examination. As the results were non-violent thus far, there was no reason for the insubordination of a forced scan.

And so, Optimus Prime roamed the halls of the Ark, unable to rest for the slow throb of the Matrix around his spark.

It was getting worse, he knew. It had been four solar cycles now since Starscream's death, and the throbbing had not ceased in that time. He felt tired and brittle down to his struts. He could not recharge, and energon only made the pulsing worse. He felt as if he were going mad under the strain of it, and under the worried glances his Autobots gave him. He was letting them down, every moment that he was distracted like this. They thought he was infected with some virus Megatron planted on Starscream's body. He couldn't let them know that it was the Matrix that had been corrupted.

This day, like all the others before it, he found himself outside of the medical bay, staring at the doors with dim, tired optics. He couldn't do this any longer, he thought. If he could just see Starscream's frame once more, confirm it down to his spark, find some way to convey to the Matrix that its partner was gone, moved on... maybe he could rest.

The med bay door slid open and he stepped inside before he could recall making a conscious decision to go through with this. Ratchet was asleep, deep in recharge on the surgery table, a cube of energon half-drunk resting on top of the tool tray to the side. Optimus wandered closer, set the cube on the floor instead, out of the way of volatile compounds and sharp objects, and moved the tool tray out of Ratchet's bleary reach. Then, as if pulled even harder for his dalliance, he moved towards the Vault.

It was sealed with codes and caution tape both, standard procedure with possible infectuous objects. He tore the tape with one easy downward pull, uncaring of secrecy, and used his override code to open the doors.

It was dark inside, pitch black but for the illuminating open doorway. He stepped into the room and it was dark again, his frame blotting out the world outside as he moved, shuffling like a guilty youngling or an empty near deactivation, towards the sole table in the room and the gray frame twisted upon it.

The Matrix throbbed harder, faster, as if excited to sense the closeness of a spark that just wasn't there any more. Morbidly, Optimus wondered if it knew Starscream was dead, and if it wished to simply root around in his empty spark chamber anyway.

He felt sick even thinking of it, but it had been thought, there was no undoing the notion. He opened his chest plates of his own will and stepped right up to the table, staring at Starscream's mangled face.

See, he thought at the Matrix, this is what you've done. What we've done. Look. He's gone now, you can't ever do this to us again. Do you feel shame, you damned relic, or are you content to simply know mine?

There was no answer, predictably. He reached out and touched Starscream's face, shuddering and gentle, unsure of what to do now.

The Matrix throbbed once, and a light glimmered from the glass of Starscream's cockpit.

Optimus snatched his hand away and stepped back, aghast, but the Matrix pulsed hard enough to constrict his spark and brought him to his knees before the table as Starscream's frame trembled, that ruined face contorted further, then went slack again, the light dying.

Optimus cried out, a bellow of denial, and levered himself to his feet again to lean over the table, watching intently. It was impossible, completely impossible, but he had seen it... hadn't he? Was this a new form of his madness?

As he watched, another pulse robbed him of his strength and he all but collapsed on top of the seeker. This time, he felt the movement, the flickering energy field that kindled, wavered, and died again. This time, it was his spark that pulsed with hurt, and not the Matrix.

Ratchet's voice cut through the dead silence, furious and afraid. "_Prime_! What are you _doing_?!"

* * *

><p>It took Wheeljack and Ratchet days to complete rebuilding Starscream's frame to a state that would not immediately offline the seeker again and again as he had been. Ratchet snarled and struggled when Optimus dragged him into the Vault, begging him to just look as the medic contacted the security team and informed them their Prime was attempting to infect him. It was the only logical conclusion, after all, with all the nonsense Optimus was babbling at him. Optimus Prime acting under the influence of a damaging virus was infinitely more likely than the small, flickering light he glimpsed kindle and then die within the Decepticon's week-long dead frame as Optimus held him, struggling, to Starscream's corpse.<p>

He wished it were a virus. He would not have had to feel the energy field full of excruciating pain and fear, would not have had to acknowledge that he had left a bot suffering for days within a glorified storage closet.

Yet, whatever Ratchet's troubles, he knew they did not compare to Optimus's.

The officer's meeting had been a disaster. Ratchet was absent, still furiously stabilizing Starscream's spark, and so had left Optimus to take the burden of proving Starscream's continued existence to the rest of them. It had gone poorly, at best.

In the end, it was only a secure feed into medical that convinced the others of not only Starscream's impossible survival, but more importantly of their Prime's continued-if-dubious sanity.

The problem, then, was what to do about it all.

The Autobot Command was split. With Ratchet currenly absent, that left Jazz, Prowl, Ironhide, and Optimus to decide Starscream's fate. Ironhide, unsurprisingly, was in favor of finishing the job Megatron had started. Prowl pointed out the usefulness in keeping Starscream alive for intelligence purposes. Jazz merely gave his vote with a thumbs-down, and refused to elaborate on his reasons.

And everyone already knew what Optimus would say.

"A tie," Prowl said, his arms crossed, a mirror of the sullen Intelligence Officer across the table. "Ratchet could break it."

"Ratchet ain't here," Ironhide snapped, not keen on involving a mech whose moral coding would undoubtedly seal Starscream's survival, especially when said mech was already working hard to save him.

"We decide once we know more," Optimus decided. The vote may have been tied, but he had the final say in all matters. "For now... Starscream lives."

Hours later, he finally received the message he had been waiting for. "Starscream's conscious again."

"I know," Optimus answered. The throbbing of the Matrix had finally ceased, but his spark still felt fragile and hollow in the wake of its torments. He had yet to recharge or refuel.

"... Would you like to see him?" Optimus could read the confusion and hesitation in Ratchet's voice, but he expected that. He was acting suspicious. Optimus would have been disappointed if there wasn't some wariness.

"Yes," he answered. "I'll be there shortly."


	8. Existence Is Flawed

Starscream was back in the Vault and, in all honesty, looked like he still belonged there. Pieces hung precariously by wires, the plating mangled beyond recognition - but whole enough for now, a pain dampener attached over his circuitry, and sitting on the repair berth with his legs dangling over the edges as he watched Optimus Prime enter and, to the alarm of Ratchet, close the door behind him.

They were alone again, and Starscream looked as pleased about it as always.

"About time you showed up," the seeker said. Optimus had no time, patience, or energy to deal with Starscream's games.

"Why are you still alive?" He cut right to the spark of the matter, and Starscream's expression tightened for a moment. It relaxed into his usual self-satisfied smirk again.

"Your precious Autobots couldn't figure it out?"

"So you do know," Optimus accused, stepping forward, crowding the damaged seeker. The way Starscream's wings grinded as they tried to twitch and the suddenly wary expression on his face spoke more to Starscream's trauma than it did to his common sense.

"I might," he evaded. "But what does it matter how?" What was left of his hands spread helplessly wide. "I'm alive. What are you going to do with me now, Optimus Prime?"

But Optimus only shook his head. "That depends on how it is you are still functioning."

Starscream's one operating optic glared... but it was obvious after a long stretch of stubborn silence that the Prime was not going to be distracted, and without his usual tools of persuasion at his disposal, Starscream finally relented.

"I'm an anomaly. An anomaly you can't seem to resist, but then, who could?" Starscream purred like a machine on the brink of catastrophe. He leaned forward, dangerously unstable on the edge of the table, his labored systems expelling heated atmosphere over Optimus Prime's windshield. It fogged, obscuring the view within.

"I am alive," Starscream said in an uncharacteristically hushed voice, "because I am incapable of becoming otherwise."

Starscream laughed at the exhausted, unamused stare he received in reply. "It's true," he assured. "I'm an Immortal."

"You're deluded," Optimus said. But he had heard the report from Ratchet on Starscream's decidedly fatal injuries. They had all been certain the mech was dead, so much so that even his most trusted officers had been quicker to denounce him compromised by a processor virus than believe him about Starscream's survival.

He had seen the mech die and rekindle several times. The Matrix had throbbed in time with each small death.

"I've been called worse," Starscream reassured him with a cutting smirk. "But you know it's true. Somewhere," he reached out and almost touched a fingertip to the glass of Optimus Prime's chest but the larger mech reared back in time to avoid it, "in your spark, you can feel it. The Matrix can feel it too."

Optimus jerked as if hit by a pulse ray. "What do you mean?" His voice sounded flat and lifeless even to his own audio receptors. He stumbled back a step as Starscream seemed to somehow advance on him, though the seeker was not capable of moving off the table.

"I mean, Optimus Prime," Starscream purred, ruined engines spinning once before choking and dying again, "that I am immortal, and the Matrix recognizes kin." He grinned, unsmoothed weld lines making his smile sharper than ever. "Why else do you think it hates me?"

"It's incapable of hate." The Prime's response was automatic, but honest. "It's an artifact. It doesn't possess emotions." He would know, with it strapped to his spark. But Starscream only kept smiling.

"True enough, Prime," Starscream agreed. "If it were sentient, or even intelligent, it would know it's incapable of killing me."

"Killing you?" Prime's spark felt light, as if disconnected from his frame, disoriented and floating away...

"You never knew?" Starscream's tone was mocking. He was well aware of Prime's ignorance and rubbing it in his face. "Prime, keeper of the Matrix, the gateway to the Well of Allsparks, and you never even guessed?" He shook his head slowly, careful of the precarious repairs in his neck.

"Don't," Optimus warned. He didn't know why he said it. Some defense mechanism, a survival instinct, futile and obsolete.

"The Matrix thinks it can kill me." As ruthless with words as he was with missiles, Starscream plowed ahead. "Well, it does not precisely think of course, but it has a programming of its own, and has determined that I am an anomaly that must be reabsorbed."

Optimus could say nothing. There was no refutation to be made.

"The results of its efforts," Starscream continued, "surprised even me." He laughed cruelly. "The Matrix, sacred relic, identifier of Primes... and a damn good energy dump."

"I won't let you touch it again," Optimus promised darkly, the shock of this revelation activating protocols that normally only engaged on the battlefield. "I'm going to stop this... aberration."

"What exactly do you think you can do about it, Optimus Prime?"

The Prime growled. "Something. Anything. I'll rip the Matrix out with my own hands, if needed."

"It would rip your spark out along with it," Starscream pointed out with a single finger directed almost flippantly at the Prime's chest. As if he didn't keep glancing, hungrily, at it.

"Do you think I speak lightly?" Optimus asked, all growl and warning. "Don't even think about it, leech."

"I think you're weighty enough as it is," Starscream answered with a not-quite-amused huff. Still, he slid off the berth to stand on legs that had not quite finished cooling from their welds, and he buckled a little. Despite everything, Optimus found himself automatically reaching to assist the seeker upright again.

Starscream's surprised look made him pause, and the inevitable smirk cut across his intentions sharply. He withdrew.

"All this trouble to save one Decepticon?" Starscream prodded, treading carefully… but hard enough to leave cracks in the eggshells of Prime's remaining patience. Cracks through which his words could seep through. "And here I thought that your objective was to eradicate the Decepticon scourge from the universe."

"I never sought to purge the universe of anything but tyranny," Optimus interrupted, but Starscream continued as if he hadn't. He leaned on Prime heavily, legs unable to support his weight in their current state, and despite being a head shorter than the Prime, leaned forward and loomed by sheer force of personality. This time, Optimus held his ground.

"You can hardly call it a tactical advantage," Starscream mused. "Nor a logical one, really." He gave Optimus a roguish grin. "My, my, Optimus Prime. Are you making decisions with your spark instead of your mind? That's hardly up to your usual standard."

Fed up yet again, Optimus clenched his fist. Why? Why, of all mechs, the most infuriating? The most insufferable? "My standards seem to diminish in your presence," he finally spat out – and almost, almost regretted it when Starscream's expression slackened with surprise.

Cautious now, Starscream ventured: "… You believe that I tainted the Matrix."

"No," Optimus answered, running a hand over his covered face. It would do no good to get worked up again. "No, not anymore. At first, yes, but… it was the Matrix that initiated… this."

Starscream was looking at him with an odd sort of expectation that made Optimus wary.

"Then why blame me," Starscream asked in a hiss, "for your failings?"

"Because you diminish me!" Optimus finally barked out, hands clenched at his sides, expression furious. His circuits were burning with fatigue, wires taut with frustration. The helpless stress he'd been under for months was at its peak, and what was left of his brittle control crumbled.

Blue optics blazed above his mask as he glared at the seeker. "I cannot be the leader I ought to, because of you. And while I'm sure that positively delights you," he ground out, "it is something else that you have taken away from me, Starscream. My ideals waver. I would like nothing better than to imprison you in some dark star for the rest of eternity, so that I could have what's left of my patience, my time, my freedom, returned to me."

Starscream was staring at him, expression shocked, but the seeker said nothing in response to that tirade. Optimus turned his face away, suddenly ashamed, but not in the least regretful.

"… It is clear that, according to Megatron, you are no longer a Decepticon."

That seemed to rouse Starscream again. "I don't really care what Megatron thinks," he answered sharply. "I am a Decepticon."

"Be that as it may, " Optimus conceded, "You cannot return to them again." Starscream gave him an arch look.

"And why not?" he asked, arms crossed across the uncovered cockpit whose glass canopy had yet to be created and installed. "I've done it before."

"We don't have the resources - or inclination - to repair you from scrap again."

Starscream was silent for a moment, frowning. "... That's honest enough, I suppose," he muttered, clearly unhappy about it. "But it's not as if I can't simply return and finally usurp Megatron!" His face split -literally - with the force of his ferocious grin. His voice lowered once more into a deadly purr. "With your assistance, I - we - can finally destroy him once and for all, Optimus Prime."

"It's not that simple."

Starscream's wheedling abruptly turned sour. "Everything is always complicated with you!" he snapped. "That's why the Autobots will lose! When you could strike the killing blow, you hesitate, trapped by your short-sighted morals! When you should take what you want, you deny yourself, suffering under the weight of your own sparks and thinking it a blessing!"

Optimus wondered, distantly, if they were still talking about Megatron.

"You're a fool," Starscream snarled. "A compromised idiot. If you're going to bury your head in the sand, you should have left me for dead in the desert!"

"I couldn't do that," Optimus said.

"Of course," Starscream sneered. "Your damned morals forbid it."

"Not that," Optimus said softly - and continued in a stronger voice before Starscream could formulate a response. "I would offer you asylum, but we both know what your answer is."

"The first smart thing you've said," Starscream spat, sufficiently distracted by such an insulting offer. "I don't require your protection."

"Naturally." Optimus looked the mangled frame up and down. "You wouldn't submit to that any more than my officers would agree to letting you free without an interrogation."

Starscream scoffed. "What could they possibly do to persuade me into giving up Decepticon secrets?" He didn't have to gesture at himself to make his point - the damage was an excellent indicator of just how much Starscream had suffered. If being tortured to death and spending a week in a supply closet dying and resurrecting hadn't broken him, nothing the Autobots could do to him would have any effect either. The threat of death obviously would not work with Starscream.

"We would remove the pain inhibitors."

That visibly stalled the seeker. One wide red optic regarded him appraisingly.

"... I see you finally found your bearings," Starscream huffed. "Alright. So what? I've dealt with worse." But Optimus could see the worry in his limited body language and felt it in his energy field.

"There are worse things than physical pain," Optimus reminded him.

"You would never," Starscream spat back.

"I've done a lot of things lately that I would never have suspected myself capable of. For now, the offer stands. You could join us - though I know you will not - and it is against your infamous self-interest to return to the Decepticons at present. Every other option requires varying degrees of compromise on your part... if you are willing and able to accept that. So, I am asking you: what do you want to do?"

Starscream sat silently for a long time. (Perhaps it seemed shorter to him, Optimus thought, given his nature.) Then, just as the Prime was about to begin speaking again, Starscream smiled.

"I will remain here," he said, "as a prisoner. The status of a refugee has no benefit in my... unique situation."

The easy agreement made Optimus wary. "You will be interrogated," he reminded Starscream needlessly. "There is nothing I can do to stop that, even if I wished."

"That's a lie," Starscream sighed. "But I accept, nonetheless. Go on, take me to the brig."

"You need more repairs first." Optimus was already informing the officers of Starscream's decision. "Enough to be self-functioning, anyway."

Starscream waved him off. "Yes, yes," he said in a bored tone. "If you're going to waste my time, do it somewhere I can't see you. And send the incompetent medic who can't tell if a mech is dead or alive back in to finish me up. I've got more important matters to deal with than your ridiculous moral conflicts."

Optimus did eventually leave, brushing past Ratchet and pretending to be deep in thought when his friend asked if everything was alright.

How could it be alright, he wondered? What had started as an annoyance was rapidly degrading into madness. What he had assumed was the Matrix taking a liking to Starscream was in fact attempted homicide. Everything Optimus thought he knew was wrong, and he did not know how to fix it.

There was only one mech he trusted with his doubts about the Matrix and its "relationship" to Starscream's apparently immortal spark. He didn't have much time to rectify this entire debacle. Starscream was plotting again, he was sure, Megatron would not be kept in the dark as to his former second-in-command's continued existence for long, and the Autobots were already paying closer attention to their Prime than Optimus liked. The Matrix, a symbol of hope and light, their last remaining connection to Cybertron and to their god, was failing them all - and simply by doing what it had been designed to: absorb the spark energy of the deceased and bring them back to the Well of Allsparks.

Optimus activated the private terminal to Teletraan-1 in his quarters and sent the communication request.


End file.
